Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 87: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE PICTURE ON - The man vanished noiselessly- turned sharply to John: “You don’t like Simmons?”’ ‘“ Just like that,’’ John smiled. admit prejudice against such a big fellow with such poor fighting capacity. I used to wish I were as tall as that rascal, but bulk isn’t everything. Certainly in this instance, there’s a good deal of muscle go- ing to waste.” “My dear boy,” Glaxton drew down his mouth, “don’t let your expert training under athletic masters make you intolerant of those not so fortunate. And, by the way, do you find that it keeps you fit to dig in old mother earth?” | ‘Digging is healthy exercise,” remarked John nonchalantly, ‘‘ but it is healthier for the man with the spade than for anybody watching from the shrubbery.” He had in- stantly divined that Simmons had either seen the first burying of the box, or had guessed it from the spade’s condition. - “Quite right. I see. Did you find out who was watching? Simmons. tells me he was in the house when he saw your father throw the spade under the back porch. Simmons says he was not in the shrubbery and he always tells me the truth. That is why I employ him.” ; There was an easy assurance in the tone that convinced John the watcher, after all, must have been Blearstead. Simmons could have known nothing of the second burying or of Blearstead’s coming, yet the master was close upon the scent. John was uncomfortable. He had the im- pression that if they kept talking, though he uttered the vaguest remarks, the mystery of the money-box and the secret of its key ordinarily kept behind the landscape paint- ing would pass into the lawyer’s keeping. “To be perfectly frank,” Glaxton smiled slightly, ‘it appears that you drove Sim- mons away on a mere pretext. Last night you wanted him off the grounds for some purpose—this morning you do not object to his presence. It makes me think of pirates’ gold and old romances. Ii I could only know what you were burying—you and your father! But after it was buried, and your father had left, could you have wanted to dig it up again? Your treatment The master ) ‘“ T must THE WALL. 365 of Simmons suggests that. These fancies have drifted across my mind, and I think it nothing but frank and fair to tell you so.” ‘“‘I appreciate your frankness, all the more so as I imagine it’s a treat you do not always give your friends. however, that while you’re finding out a good deal about your Cousin John Lyle Warring, he is learning very little about you. Right now, then, is when we break our interview into, that each of us may keep his particular fragment as a pleasant sou- venir of memory. To be serious—some- thing hard to maintain with so humorous a companion—I must run for my train.” CHAPTER XVIII. BETTIE AGAIN TO THE RESCUE. N order to catch the early train for Kan- | sas City without making his destination known, John took the local freight to a near-by town and there waited for the cross-country express, headed for St. Louis. At Lexington Junction he left the car at the tank just before the engine pulled up to the station to board a train traveling in the op- posite direction. In due time.he was climb- ing the long flight of iron steps to the wait- ing-room of the Kansas City Union Station. After subduing his attire to harmonize with the murky environs of Smiling Lane— accomplished by expert shopping at old- clothes shops—he hastened toward the dis- reputable quarters of his past adventures, yet not too hurriedly to choose alleys and byways safest from his enemies, the guar- dians of the law. e How remote seemed to him his past, how alien were the surroundings which a month ago had seemed a fitting setting for his life! As on going to Lagville he had been con- scious of acting a part, like that of a dis- guised beggar in scenes of opulence, so now he had the feeling of one of the favored classes passing himself off as a vagrant. In the midst of foul sights and sounds, he found beneath his shabby exterior some- — thing of spiritual kinship to the picture on the wall. Without doubt there was this inner resemblance. Alas! Such spiritual texture is invisible It occurs to me,. (E(0) Gomicbooks